Harken Forth
by Mira-Jade
Summary: The moments behind myth and legend. A collection of a hundred drabbles.
1. And They Will Continue Wandering

"****Harken Forth"****

**Genre**: Everything**  
>Rating: <strong>T**  
>Time Frame: <strong>Everywhere**  
>Characters: <strong>Everyone

**Summary**: The moments behind myth and legend.

**Notes**: These were written for a challenge at another site, where one writes twenty sets of five drabbles for a total hundred. The prompts did not come from me, so I am doing my best to work with what I am given – which is half of the fun, in the end.

Anything and everything is up for grabs with these, and I will try to be versatile with my characters and setting – so look out, and I hope you have as much fun reading them as I did writing them.

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><p><strong>Week I<strong>: _and they will continue wandering, these things of steel amongst the stars_

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><p><strong>I. Lights<strong>

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

Loki had remembered thinking that the training ring was too hot. The dust clung to the sweat of him, and the steel in his hand was molten. Thor's attacks were relentless, and he had been thinking, _if I could only_. . .

The light that leapt from his fingertips was a fervid, verdant thing that had Thor flying backwards. _Magic_, that snaked back under the skin of him as soon as the clearing quieted, his heavy breathing as stunned as Thor's.

Thor's eyes were bright upon him. And he grinned. "Brother, do that again!"

* * *

><p><strong>II. Camera<strong>

"There are no pictures in these."

"Believe it or not, there are some who look to books for the words they hold," Loki's voice was distracted – for unraveling the wards around the forbidden sections of the library was no simple feat.

Thor marveled at that. "Truly?"

Finally, Loki did roll his eyes. "Here, I have it."

Thor leaned forward to see the ancient book in his hands – a journal detailing the canyons of Invaldi, and the beasts who lived there.

"Not so useless after all, brother?" Loki mocked.

Thor rolled his shoulders, his smile a knife wound. "Come now, I feel the hunt approaching."

* * *

><p><strong>III. Action<strong>

There were few things that Sif found more fascinating than traveling by the bifröst.

Leading them, Thor held a fisted hand out before him as if to challenge both time space. The stars brightened him, mocking him: _you small little princeling of a thing_. But they let him keep his charge.

Beside her, Loki let the shadows between the stars swallow him; their light forged him, and he seemed to ebb in time with the passing of the universe more so than the rest of them.

Sif merely slanted her eyes ahead, and waited for their destination to rush upon them.

* * *

><p><strong>IV. Roll<strong>

_You were both born to be kings._

The memory was an axis, spinning the whole of his future. Such a silly thing to say; he had thought at the time, with the firstborn being groomed for the throne, and the second son ready to be the adviser in the shadows. The words were nothing but a consolation; empty.

_You were both born to be kings._

Loki looked down to see the blue that frosted over his skin; a stigma that only a careful whisper of spells hid.

_You were both born to be kings._

Yes . . . of his father's people, he was.

* * *

><p><strong>V. Shoot<strong>

Thor still called him brother.

The title had hit him like a blow that first time they'd faced each other after the destruction of the bifröst. With steel meeting under the shadow of Midgard, the mortal warriors – _Avengers_, their arrogance dubbed them - were a flanking ring to them the whole of the battle.

"Brother, come home," Thor bid him over the cross of their blades.

Something uncomfortable lodged deep within him. And still he whispered, "I do not need you." _I do not miss you_. Loki refused to call him brother.

It was the greatest lie he had ever told.


	2. I Have No Other Star

**A/N: **A two and three for this set. ;) (And a hefty dose of shipper indulgence at that.)

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><p><strong>Week II<strong>: _I have no other star: you are my replica of a slowly multiplying universe_

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><p><strong>VI. Adventure<strong>

"I am going to murder your brother."

The phrase was not a rare one on the lips of the Lady Sif, but it was rare when speaking of one brother rather than the other. Instantly, Loki sat up straighter, intrigued.

"Whatever for?"

Sif didn't respond right away, instead turning to seal the flap of his tent against the violence of the storm beyond. Snow stuck to her hair, frosting over the fur that swathed her; the ice brightened her eyes.

"Remind Thor, next time, the sagacity of summoning a storm on _Niflheimr_-"

" - I tried to -"

" - where there is no rain, but _snow_."

* * *

><p><strong>VII. Romance<strong>

"I'm fine with the elements, but _this_is ridiculous."

"Indeed," Loki settled for agreeing, for it seemed to be the only thing to do.

Sif tossed her head, indignant; and once her boots were shed, she crossed the few steps towards him. Not bothering to ask, she slipped under blankets with him, twining herself about him as if she had every right to do so.

"My tent is cold; yours is warmer," she said in explanation.

"My lady," he caught her hand, warming her fingers. "You never need such an excuse with me."

"It's too cold for you to be smart," she declared arrogantly. The ice was melting against her lashes. "Now, hold still and let me warm."

* * *

><p><strong>VIII. Science<strong>

"I didn't realize that the sun had a name," Jane whispered, tracing her finger across her father's star charts. "Sól?" she tried the appellation on her tongue.

"Sól, who draws her chariot of light across the sky while the wolf Sköll snaps at her heels in hot pursuit," Elian Foster enlightened her. "So radiant is she that she brightens the sky, and all she touches."

Jane gave a watery smile. "That's a silly story to name the sun after."

"Really?" Elian grinned. "Most myths are nothing more than explanations for things that couldn't be explained. Science and magic – at times, they are the same thing, kid."

* * *

><p><strong>IX. Fiction<strong>

That night of the bifröst's destruction, Jane opted for a roaring sugar high over a fifth of tequila. It wasn't the same, but it served its purpose as she and Darcy finished off their fifth carton of Ben 'n Jerry's while scouring over their book of Nordic myths, putting faces to the names they had all read of before.

"I say," Darcy declared grandly, waving her spoon in the air, "that we read the one about Thrym again – that one deserves a double read. And pictures. We definitely need more pictures."

Jane grinned, and started to read. "So says the _Thrymskvitha_. . ."

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><p><strong>X. Comedy<strong>

"Darcy, for the last time, _shooting first_ does not come before _asking questions later_."

"How was I supposed to know that he was another suit from SHIELD?" Darcy refused to look petulant as Jane bent over the man she had felled. "Given all of the freaks that have been passing through here, I can't be blamed for my actions."

"Darcy," Jane's voice was a long suffering sigh, but she had no argument for that.

The man on the floor coughed, struggling to consciousness. "Which of you," Clint Barton started, still holding his head, "is the one with the rather excellent aim?"


	3. As Your Shadows Darken the Ground

**Week III**: _and I will watch your shadows as they darken the ground_

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><p><strong>XI. Wings<strong>

"Your son found a way to enter the weapon's vault unaided."

Frigg raised a brow. "Oh? And how did Thor manage such a feat?"

"_Loki_ managed to . . . with _magic_," Odin thundered, the word a curse. "Magic that _you_insisted he learn -"

" - Loki's talents are past anything Asgard has ever seen. Of course he needed help harnessing it."

"What, then, is going to keep him from finding a passage to the Underway – or even worse, the Ways between the realms? What happens then?"

Frigg sighed, her troubled mind lost upon the wings of prophesy. "Then, you will just have to learn to trust him."

* * *

><p><strong>XII. Unforgiven<strong>

By their third century, the brothers were not at all unfamiliar with pranks gone wrong. And just the same, they knew to respect their father's wrath in return. So, it was known from experience that the longer the wait always meant the worse the punishment would be in the end.

. . . Odin had yet to speak to them the whole of the day through after their latest 'incident'. Beyond them, Asgard's skies were threatening to darken.

"Come now, brother, what is the worst that Father can do?" Thor, ever at ease with Odin's approval, could not quite empathize with why his brother's face was so pallid.

* * *

><p><strong>XIII. Rocky<strong>

Darkly, Loki answered, "He can tie us by our intestines to the mountainside, and wrap vipers about our foreheads to drip venom on us from now until the end of time."

Thor blinked at him. "Yours is a peculiar mind, brother."

"Don't think he hasn't thought of it."

Thor shook his head, bemused, "If we ask very nicely, I am sure that Sif would hold a bowl to catch the venom until we free ourselves. So, you see, no harm will be done."

Beyond them, the guard announced that Odin would see them; and the princes hesitated for a heartbeat's time before entering.

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><p><strong>XIV. Titanic<strong>

On Jötunnheimr after Odin's revelation, Loki approached Laufey's court with his head held high, arrogantly meeting the Jötunn king's gaze. Even still, It was a blow to him to see the shape of his own face within the other man once he knew to look. Another blow to feel the way the winter bit at his skin – as if welcoming him.

It should have pained him to speak the lies that would lure the monarch to Asgard. Father's flesh in behalf of Father's flesh, and he would be the only one to hold the weight of blood in the end.

But the lie came easily to him, silver upon his tongue.

* * *

><p><strong>XV. Crash<strong>

He had not been expecting to see a son of Odin so soon after the first; and he had most certainly not expected to have the second son – the shadowed one – come before him, and speak of treason.

Through it all, there was something familiar in the young man's gaze – something about the shade of his eyes, and twist of his words that Laufey couldn't quite put his finger on. It was this undefinable likeness that made Laufey agree to trusting a traitor – for the idea of Odin, felled by his hand and Asgard in flames, was too much for him to pass by.


	4. We Kept Ripples From the Shorelines

**Week IV**: _we kept ripples from the shoreline_

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><p><strong>XVI. Clue<strong>

The first time Odin Allfather – his father – had let he and Thor accompany him to Jötunnheimr for the annual treaty renewal, the brothers had been a little more than a century old. And a century, hardly a ripple amongst a race of immortal beings, had been little time to cool the relations between the Aesir and the Jötnar.

Loki remembered being wide eyed at the wasteland – the ruins of ice and stone all around him, all throwing shadows that whispered stolen secrets. While Thor shivered at his side, he couldn't help but imagine that the winter echoed in his veins – as if welcoming him home.

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><p><strong>XVII. Operation<strong>

"Jötunnheimr wasn't always that way, you know."

"What was it like?" there was a curiosity to her son's voice – Loki always was like an empty bowl, ready to be filled; and Frigg felt an ache behind her heart as she thought of her reply. It was a fine line – a delicate operation – raising a child so far from home, and she had much she yearned to tell him.

Even so, Frigg pulled her son close and whispered stories of grand palaces made of ice, and arctic lights so bright that they put even Asgard's skies to shame . . .

And carefully, Loki listened. He forgot but little.

* * *

><p><strong>XVIII. Life<strong>

"I am going to be sick."

"The great Lady Sif, felled by a little trip on the bifröst?" Thor's laugh was a teasing thing.

"It was not the trip, but the destination, you fool," Sif hissed, kneeling upon Midgard's surface. Around her, humanity struggled and tore each other asunder on the battlefields. She could hear their warcries – and their fervent prayers, unconscious or not, threw her.

So much life, lost for nothing . . .

"Breath deep, and they will pass." She felt Loki's hand on her shoulder, and then a gentle light - soothing against her mind, quieting the prayers until she could stand again.

* * *

><p><strong>XIX. Sorry<strong>

"My apologies, brother, but I find myself in need of a hiding place, and you have that honest sort of face that no one would second guess."

Thor blinked, but stepped aside in order to let his brother into his rooms. Loki was still covered in dust and grime from the training ring, and he had a rather impressive bruise developing about his right eye.

Thor knew the shape of that bruise from long experience.

"You could just try apologizing to her," Thor hesitantly offered the suggestion.

"Perish the thought," Loki drawled, his eyes glinting as he pulled himself deeper into the shadows.

* * *

><p><strong>XX. Risk<strong>

"I need to know where to find that snake of a second prince."

Unblinking, Heimdall asked, "And what do you seek your vengeance for?"

Sif held up her arm to where a rather impressive burn loitered, still flaring green. "He cheated," was the only explanation she gave.

"Perhaps you should be seeking Eir, and not the Prince," the watchman offered, knowing his words to be useless – for his sister did not embark upon the warrior's path without knowing the risks involved.

Sif scoffed, "I blackened his one eye already, and the other will not escape me. Now – his location, brother."

And Heimdall fought the urge to sigh.


	5. When We're Dancing Cheek to Cheek

**Author's Notes: **This part was inspired by** silverduck**'s latest Sif/Loki piece: _"It Takes Two to Tango"_ - which you should totally check out if you haven't, because it is made of sheer brilliance. And that's that. ;)

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><p><strong>Week V<strong>: _when we're dancing cheek to cheek_

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><p><strong>XXI. Rated<strong>

"Dancing is pointless."

"You won't think that in a few centuries," Frigg admonished her eldest, clapping her hands in an easy beat. Thor's eyes were crossed comically from where he tried to balance the book atop his head and still move in the patterns the Queen had showed them.

"I pity the lady stuck dancing with you when that time comes, Brother," Loki snickered, his book not wavering nearly as much as Thor's.

"Loki Tangletongue," Thor sneered.

"Thor Tanglefeet," Loki returned, ever easy with his words; and the book fell from Thor's head as soon as he lunged at his brother.

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><p><strong>XXII. Guidance<strong>

While Sif easily followed Thor in battle, she struggled when he tried to lead her through a dance's steps. A few paces away, Sigyn was quite the pretty picture dancing with the second prince; sickeningly graceful as Loki guided her.

Distracted, Sif let out an oomph of surprise when she collided with Thor's shoulder. Sigyn's laugh at her misstep was dainty; flirty and bright.

That was it.

Flinging Thor's arm from her waist, Sif moved to cut in between the other two with a battle-born boldness. At Loki's smirk (and Sigyn's glower) she defended: "I tire of your brother stepping upon my toes."

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><p><strong>XXIII. Suggested<strong>

"Come, I would see you dance rather than stalk the edges of the feast."

Sif's voice was an order as she dragged Thor towards the dancing couples who celebrated his latest victory. There was no rejoicing in Thor's eyes as he mourned the brother and the woman he had lost, and his silence weighed heavy.

"You are brave to risk your toes so," Thor attempted to cheer.

"Seeing as how I cannot beat your melancholy from you, I am resigned to suffer so."

Thor's hand on her waist was heavier than the one who normally held her so - but it was a comfort nonetheless.

* * *

><p><strong>XXIV. Caution<strong>

The gala Tony Stark held to celebrate the Avenger's formation was . . . opulent, in a word.

Jane felt uneasy amongst the glitter and the glamor, picking restlessly at the evening gown that Pepper had helped her select. Besides her, Thor was a bedtime story come true for her (wearing the tuxedo Stark had insisted on), bowing in order to ask her to dance.

Her heart leapt stupidly, amazed once more that she had found him again. "I have to warn you that I am exceptionally good at stepping on toes."

Thor's smile was blinding. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

><p><strong>XXV. Restricted<strong>

While Clint Barton had had enough of mutants, secret agents, Gods (Tony included), heroes and freaks in tights to fill two lifetimes, he had to admit that the whole of them looked pretty good when gathered together and dressed to impress.

And if the young woman who normally blazed with a do-not-touch sign (and the taser to boot) was determined to dance, who was he to say no?

"C'mon, Bullseye – there are too many pretty people out there dancing, and its making me nauseous."

"It's Hawkeye," Clint grumbled. Still, he followed her.

"Yeah," Darcy smirked, placing his hand on her waist. "That's what I said."


	6. To Pay the Bridal Price, We Shall Go

**Author's Notes: **This week actually started as a one-shot, but seeing how my fanfiction plate is rather full at the moment, I decided to squeeze it in here. And while I know it has been done a dozen times in this fandom, I bring you a mini re-telling of the _Thrymskvitha_, because mythology like that just begged to be written about (especially with the 'princess' tuant in the film. There is no way such a cheesy insult would work so perfectly to set Thor off unless there was such a story behind it . . . ).

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><p><strong>Week VI<strong>: _to pay the bridal price, we shall go_

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><p><strong>XXVI. Sex<strong>

"I can assure you that this is not what it looks like."

While Sif had seen many things in her long life, coming into her chambers to see the second prince with her wardrobe open and scattered across the room . . . and _modeling_a rather elegant blue dress before her mirror was not one she expected to see this side of Ragnarök. Ever.

Sif blinked. "Dare I ask?"

"How," Loki started thoughtfully, frighteningly at ease within the woman's garb as he ran an elegant hand over the silk, "do you think my brother would look as a bride?"

* * *

><p><strong>XXVII. Graphic<strong>

"Why can't Sif wear the dress?"

"Because I am not the one who angered Thrym into stealing Mjölnir in the first place," Sif said, her eyes crossed as she carefully painted Thor's eyes. "And you deserve a little pain for expecting Freyja to wed Thyrm because of your idiocy. Shame on you."

Thor made a face. "Perhaps Thrym selected the wrong woman's hand – already you have ice enough in your veins to make you a fitting bride for a Jötnar."

Sif's next pluck with the tweasers at Thor's eyebrows was vengefully sharp, and Loki couldn't say that he blamed her.

* * *

><p><strong>XXVIII. Violence<strong>

"That is not fair." Was the first thing Thor said, decked out in bridal finery, and quite ill at ease.

Loki raised a brow – a move made more elegant by the actual female form he was able to shapeshift into. "If I could, I would have bespelled you as well."

Thor looked dubious.

"And you do look lovely, brother," Loki couldn't help but mock, knowing full well of the bruises Thor would give him later. "Now, play the role of blushing maiden, and do try to refrain from violence – my spells will keep eyes from peering too closely and nothing more."

* * *

><p><strong>XXIX. Language<strong>

The princes entered Thrym's court as Freyja dressed to wed, and her single bridesmaid.

Thrym commented on his bride's appetite, and the bridesmaid responded that _she_had not eaten nor drank in eight days, so hot was her longing for Jötunnheimr.

Thrym commented in the fire in his bride's eyes when he moved in for a kiss, and the bridesmaid responded that _she_had not slept in eight days, so fierce was her yearning for Jötunnheimr.

Thrym brought out Mjölnir to pay the bridal price, and then there was nothing more for Thor to say where actions spoke louder still.

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><p><strong>XXX. Drugs<strong>

They return to Jötunnheimr not even a century later, this time with war in Thor's eyes, and violence burning in his veins.

Laufey was prepared to overlook the rashness of a boy, knowing full more of war than which the ignorant before him sought. And yet, it was a very familiar Jötunn who stepped forward as they retreated. Thrym, saying: "Run back home, little princess." Around him, the giants chuckled at the memory.

Loki stopped upon the ice, knowing Thor's response would be quick and bloody, as predictable as an intoxicant upon the blood. And he could only whisper:

"Damn."


	7. since love battles, I shall take up arms

**Author's Notes: **Well, will you look at that gap between updates. Time to rectify that.

This week is a gratuitous shipper indulgence, so if Sif/Loki does not float your boat, I would recommend sitting pretty until the next update. ;)

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><p><strong>Week VII<strong>: "_and because love battles, I shall take up arms"_

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><p><strong>XXI. Book<strong>

Sif had always been able to read the second son like an open book. It was a talent that served her well, with the sun hot above the training ring, and Loki lost within dozens of illusions – copies, cast from the mold of him.

Around her, her shadow clung to her like a second skin; she could feel its caress upon the hand that held her blade, upon the slip of skin between her shoulderplates and her hair.

One of the illusions smirked; a flare of green was bright at his eyes, telling real from imagined. And Sif struck true.

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><p><strong>XXXII. Black<strong>

While Sif did not miss the golden cast of her hair, the first time Sigyn taunted her for its new color (such dirty hair, fitting for a woman doing a man's work), Sif took her leave from the feast to regain her composure. She was uncomfortable within her dress, with the weight of her newly growing hair, within her very skin it would seem.

Loki was the one to follow her, understanding in his silences as he raised a gentle hand to thread through her hair. Her breath caught oddly at the gesture. "Lovely," he whispered.

And she believed him.

* * *

><p><strong>XXXIII. Misunderstanding<strong>

"I believe your son has caught the eye of the Lady Sif."

Frigg let the suspicion fall to her husband as she unbraided her hair for the night, her voice thoughtful as her observations slid alongside her visions – for her son could hide but little from her, and Sif was even more open still.

"It will be a strong match for Asgard," Odin finally said to her revelation.

"Indeed," Frigg agreed.

Odin smiled then, beaming and proud; and it warmed Frigg to see. And he said: "I always knew Thor had it in him."

Frigg blinked, weary, but did not correct him.

* * *

><p><strong>XXXIV. Stride<strong>

It had been an instinctive reaction - she coming to harm and the ice leaping from his fingers in her defense. Loki had been working for the Avengers – for Thor's absolution – for the better part of a season, and the frost between them had yet to completely thaw.

The look in her eyes was something like the hunt, and he found himself slow to cloak himself in his spells the closer she came – raising curious fingers to the black markings that proclaimed his Jötunn heritage for all to see.

"Lovely," she whispered, quietly fascinated, and for a moment he believed her words to be true.

* * *

><p><strong>XXXV. Singing<strong>

The sound of a baby's cries faded to the lullaby upon her husband's lips. Sif stayed watching at the nursery's entrance, as entranced as Hela by the easy melody – by the play of magic from father to daughter.

"What song is this?" Sif asked as her child's eyes drooped, coming to wrap her arms around her husband.

Softly, Loki replied, "I do not know . . . it is merely a memory . . . from before a time I can recall."

Sif was silent as the alien lullaby started again, no words needed as she turned and held her small family close.


	8. This Cold Metal is Not My Steel

**Author's Notes: **Because these two are just too cute for words . . . :p

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><p><strong>Week Eight<strong>: _this cold metal is not my steel_

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><p><strong>XXXVI. Cube<strong>

" . . . and then you press the lever down here, and voila! You have a pop tart ready to be consumed in about thirty seconds or so."

Darcy smiled over at where Jane's Thunder God was bent rather comically over the counter, his eyes wide and fascinated upon the toaster and the treat it held inside. She figured that if the big guy was going to eat all of her pop tarts, he could at least learn how to make them for himself.

"Such great power," Thor breathed.

Darcy smirked. "Just wait until I show you microwaved popcorn."

* * *

><p><strong>XXXVII. Sphere<strong>

"And this?" Thor questioned, referring to the contraption she had out on the roof.

"It's a telescope - I use it for looking at the stars. Here," Jane gestured him over. "Like this."

Thor frowned upon drawing away. "The stars are so much . . . less here," he said softly.

Jane fell quiet, remembering just how long she had searched for him with that very telescope. At the pained look that crossed her eyes, Thor turned again to her, and vowed: "I must show you the cosmos from Asgard . . . indeed, its splendor is past anything I can describe."

* * *

><p><strong>XXXVIII. Cone<strong>

"Forward, metal beast of Midgard!"

"Or you can try hitting the gas."

"Yes, there is always that," Thor's smile was sheepish as he carefully accelerated. The steering wheel was loose in his fists – for he still did not understand why he had to learn to drive when it was just as easy to fly to his destination.

"That cone was supposed to represent a pedestrian," Jane remarked wryly as the cone fell to Thor's wide turn.

"And it is not Midgardian custom to hit pedestrians?" Thor couldn't help but tease.

Jane threw her nose in the air. "Only when I'm driving,"

* * *

><p><strong>XXXIX. Cylinder<strong>

Jane's trip to the grocery store (apparently, feeding a whole group of Aesir would take more than her small apartment had to offer) took an unexpected turn when she lost Thor in the maze of aisles. She found him in the toy aisle, a honest to goodness plastic _lightsaber_in his hands as he instructed the children around him on the proper footwork and technique for swordplay.

Upon seeing her, he smiled widely, and said: "A useful training saber – but I cannot quite figure out how to access its magic to make it appear as the one in the picture."

* * *

><p><strong>XL. Pyramid<strong>

"There is no magic in this land. My brother . . . my brother always hated trips to Midgard, complaining that he could not feel the elemental arts here."

Propped up on his chest, the both of them sprawled out to stargaze on the roof, Jane gave a watery smile as Thor's stories turned wistful. "And yet, it was not always so. For instance, I don't believe I've told you about the time the Norse predicted their whole harvest season based on the number of times Loki tried to set the Viking Chief Sigurd's hair on fire . . ."


	9. The Darcy Files

**Author's Notes: **Because I could not resist . . . This girl may just have *the* perfect comedic voice, and it was fun playing with that.

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><p><strong>Week IX<strong>: _The Darcy Files_

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><p><strong>XLI. Who? <strong>

_Entry I39_

My boss totally just hit a drunk homeless guy with the van.

Sure, I was in the driver's seat, but Jane's hand was on the wheel, and really – you should have seen her face when she realized somebody was inside the storm that I was determined not to die in. And really, it was a pity that such a . . . gorgeous drunk homeless guy was also halfway out of his mind and ranting to the sky above (he called himself Thor. Really?).

Jane may have hit him with the truck. But I tasered him. And I'd do it again.

* * *

><p><strong>XLII. What?<strong>

_Entry 142_

Okay, it is official. Jane's homeless guy is a _God_. Really. I mean, anyone that . . . delightfully ripped has to have a little of the divine in him. Right? It's a pity he already has starry eyes for Jane, though. Jane – who has never shown attention to a guy unless he was holding a star chart.

Hmm . . . do you think that he has a brother?

What? Don't look at me that way, diary. _You_try being in the armpit of the dessert and finding a guy who isn't Farmer Joe, or some hillbilly hick who's insisting on seeing UFO's. Seriously.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>

**XLIII. When?**

_Entry 143_

So, I just battled a giant robot Destroyer with Xena's long lost twin, Robin Hood's fashion designer clone, Jackie Chan's samurai brother, and the Norse look-alike of Santa Claus. And we totally won.

Well . . . I just sort of watched from the sidelines. But the Destroyer was . . . destroyed by Jane's better-without-a-shirt guy - who looked even better with a cape. Now, we're waiting at the bottom of a rainbow bridge for Thor to return after schooling his little brother – upon which he promised a tour of the other side.

. . . when did my life become this interesting?

* * *

><p><strong>XLIV. Where?<strong>

_Entry 154_

So . . . The bridge busted. Thor never returned, and Jane threw herself into her work with a determination that was scary . . .

I'm still sticking around. After all, I have a summer internship to complete – and I'm even looking at the possibility of finishing my courses online before becoming officially employed by Stark or SHIELD – anything to keep me near Jane's project. After all, the woman needs someone to make her pop tarts and coffee – and she _definitely_needs someone to make sure her rebuild-the-rainbow-bridge playlists are shuffling properly. Where else would she find that if not in me?

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><p><strong>XLV. Why?<strong>

_Entry 207_

Jane won't let me taser Nick Fury - a cold, cutting, ends-justify-the-means man who could totally _use_a good bolt of electricity to the chest. I did, however, taser one of his top agents.

Later, I learned that Clint Barton was assigned to us for security purposes - information that could have been more useful _before_. Still, even fogged by pain, his eyes were a delightfully warm shade of blue as he sat up and looked between me and Jane, and said: "Which of you is the one with the rather remarkable aim?"

Why yes, that would be me. Darcy Lewis at your service.


	10. when you land, you land with a splash

**Author's Notes: **These next two sets are actually crossovers, so I decided to post them at the same time, seeing as how crossovers are not for everyone.

And that said, the bunny for this bit when River Song mentioned "picnics in Asgard", surely there had to be a moment where the Doctor made an impression on one of the Aesir, and Loki has to land sometime. Or rather, somewhere . . . That said, enjoy this little slice of crack.

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><p><strong>Week X: <strong>_and when you land, you land with a splash_

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><p><strong>XLVI. Return<strong>

Thor spent the first and last candlemark of every day with the Guardian at the ruined edge of the bifröst. Heimdall left the prince his thoughts in silence, knowing as he did of their weight, and turned his unblinking gaze upon Jane Foster at Thor's command.

And then one day, Thor breathed the question that Heimdall dreaded to answer. "Can you . . . can you see him? My brother."

For a moment, Heimdall wished he had the Liarsmith's strength with falsehoods. Instead, he had only his truths, his duties, when he answered, "He lives . . . and he has found The Destroyer of Worlds."

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><p><strong>XLVII. Revenge<strong>

Surely, his landing was the universe's sick concept of revenge.

Loki fell for he knew not how long – plummeting through the dark and harsh parts of the cosmos, shadowed against time and space as the stars around him accused: _you arrogant tiny thing_. The void refused to release him. Gravity refused to hold him. He saw many things – cruel and careless and so rank with _life_that he trembled upon witnessing them. Suddenly, his great power was a drop of water against an ocean. Useless.

His thoughts mocked him, for when he landed, he landed within a pool. A pool within a library.

* * *

><p><strong>XLVIII. Curse<strong>

Loki surfaced to a mortal couple watching him, openly surprised. The woman, with flaming hair and eyes made of steel (and for a moment, he thought of Sif, and knew a fresh lance of pain) opened and closed her mouth twice before shouting, "Doctor, your cursed pool is picking up hitchhikers again!"

He narrowed his eyes at her shout, but ignored the questions in their eyes as he waded through the water; the leather and metal of his armor slowing him.

"Ponds, stay out of the Pond, and if the hitchhiker is Arthur Dent, don't let him near the poetry!"

* * *

><p><strong>XLIX. Wrath<strong>

"Your name Arthur Dent?" the woman asked, adjusting to the strangeness of their situation without blinking.

"No," Loki shook his head, spells itching at his hands as confusion still fogged him.

"You got a name, then?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes, but that third voice rang out, closer now. "Loki, Loki Odinson . . . or Laufeyson, going by your place in the timeline." The name, still raw to Loki, burned. If the Doctor noticed, he made no comment as he turned, and before the woman could speak, said: "And no, Mrs. Pond – you may not keep him. We're going to throw this one back."

* * *

><p><strong>L. Attack<strong>

Mr. Pond handed him a towel, but Loki waved him away and dried with a silent spell. The Doctor watched him, and Loki could see it in his eyes – his ancientness, his command of time. Loki bowed mockingly, and let him look – for he was even older, and the universe had long since dubbed him her favored son.

"It's been too long since I gave a sorcerer a lift – and a God, at that," the Doctor said, voice light and eyes dangerous. "Is there anywhere you'd like to be?"

_Home_, Loki thought. But that bridge was burned to him. And so . . .

"New Mexico, if you please."


	11. if you were to ask me who I've been

**Author's Notes: **This is complete crack based on the fact that Chris Hemsworth also portrayed George Kirk in the newest Star Trek film. My muse went on a whirl trying to connect the dots with that, and this is what came from my efforts. That said, my portrayals of Ragnarok here are a little different from Marvel and mythology both, simply beacuse I fully expect Loki to be turned around by then. BUT, the whole of that is a story for another time.

So, that said . . .

* * *

><p><strong>Week XI<strong>: _if you were to ask me who I've been_

* * *

><p><strong>LI. Death<strong>

Ragnarök comes.

Asgard falls, even with all of her children's valiant efforts to forge a different fate. But prophesy was prophesy, and from some there was no escaping destiny's weight. Like the forest fires that ravaged the wilds, the Gods would die in order to live life anew amongst time and space.

Thor had passed his centuries confident in his ability to forestall that future – for his people, for his family. But now, with the gilded pillars shuddering around him – the sea flowing from its cradle, and the very sky dropping stars - he knew that some things could not be prevented or conquered – merely survived.

* * *

><p><strong>LII. Doom<strong>

They had given up fighting. Already, most had fallen – Odin in the first wave, Frigg ever faithful by his side. The Three in place of the princes two.

And now, around what was left of their small group, his brother's shield was fading. The color of it a tired shade of spring. Loki's eyes were drooping, slipping into red as he exerted his magic past what his body could handle. At his side, Sif had dropped her own shield long before in order to hold him up. Low, urgent words passed between them, and Thor could only imagine the shape of their syllables.

* * *

><p><strong>LIII. Terror<strong>

Protected in the circle of his own arms, as if the height and breadth of his form could spare her, Jane was shaking, even as her face was carefully calm, serene as death shadowed her. Newly immortal, she had been determined to face the Twilight of the Gods alongside her husband, and foolishly he had let her, confident of their victory. Now, he was struck by how dearly he had failed her.

He would not do so again.

"I will find you," he vowed fiercely. "I swear that I will find you." Jane nodded, taking his promise as her own as around him his world died.

* * *

><p><strong>LIV. Peril<strong>

Ragnarök had been more fearsome than any Armageddon Jane could have imagined while on Earth. In some ways it had been moving to see – Jötunn fighting alongside Aesir, Álfar next to Dwarf, and mortal next to monster – all fighting to save Yggdrasil from being torn from its roots.

But the Ancients, the force who had created the universe, were unreasonable, and they would smite any and all who inhabited Asgard's halls. But it was the possibility of rebirth – of _again_, due to Hela's sacrifice, that anchored them. And so, Jane closed her eyes tight, and let the tide take her.

* * *

><p><strong>LV. Shadow<strong>

Centuries in the future, a child was born on a modest farmstead in the sea of harvest ripe fields known as Iowa.

It rained the day of that child's birth – sheets upon sheets of water that gave the oceans of grain around them life. The sky parted, and the immensity of the heavens above was filled, eager to encompass its own down far below.

They say that George Kirk was born with the stars in his eyes and thunder in his veins, and the shadow he threw was an old and ancient thing that the land rumbled forth to accept.


	12. with war cries of our own

**Author's Notes: **In the name of Minor Character Appreciation, I do salute thee!

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><p><strong>Week XII<strong>: _we took up your call to arms with battle cries of our own_

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><p><strong>LVI. Prime<strong>

When Volstagg was but a youth, Jötunnheimr waged war with the stars.

He had been hardly a man - a ripple amongst the ranks of Asgard's immortal guard. But the Allfather had called, and he had eagerly answered. The battlefields of the Great War had been unlike anything he could have imagined - fierce and bitter and cold. When Asgard triumphed, and her sons marched back home, there were gaps in their lines – missed where young men had bled out into the snow, lost to Valhalla's glory.

Now, war forged, there was a veteran staring from his reflection where once youth and dreams had stood.

* * *

><p><strong>LVII. Composite<strong>

"The Warriors Three!" Volstagg laughed lustily the first time he heard the name, Fandral and Hogun unfortunate victims of his mirth as he caught one under each arm. "It suits us."

Fandral stumbled out from under the larger man's hold. "Fandral the Bold," he mused delightedly. "I like it. And Hogun the Grim . . . fitting."

Hogun blinked – loquaciousness, from him. "And Volstagg the Vast," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his neck where Volstagg had held too tight.

"Worthy titles all," Thor thundered in agreement, grinning heartily.

"Truly wonderful," Loki drawled from his brother's side. "Together you all can now attempt at a whole mind."

* * *

><p><strong>LVIII. Deficient<strong>

The first time they gathered in the practice rings after the bifröst's destruction – the Three, their Lady, and their Prince – it became apparent that they were an uneven number. There was a new rhythm to be learned to their fighting now, with their sixth soul lost.

"We are five now," Fandral said, scratching at his head, "Not exactly the most ideal sparring number."

Sif glared at him when Thor hesitated to speak, emotion heavy in his gaze. "I will face two rather than one," she said, her eyes fierce even as the hand on her shield clenched. "Come now – Fandral, Hogun, see my challenge."

* * *

><p><strong>LVIX. Perfect<strong>

Throughout her centuries, Eir had seen much of loss, of life. In her hall, she had held new life as it was birthed, and had felt life slip away in rushes of steel and crimson. For each who passed her way, she did her utmost to return them whole when they had entered less.

"Why, my friend, I do believe that this will scar – come now, a smile at the thought!" Fandral clasped Hogun on the back, his grin forced and wane.

The somber man inclined his head, and under her hands, Eir felt destroyed skin weave itself together again.

* * *

><p><strong>LX. Abundant<strong>

Hela's first real steel was a set of throwing blades, quite like her father's. The girl tended to the weapons delicately, brow creased in determination.

The whetstone was still clumsy in Hela's small hands, and taking pity upon the proud child (who would not ask her parents for help), Volstagg took out one of his own knives, and set to instructing her. "I taught your mother how to sharpen a blade," Volstagg said easily to Hela's cross eyes. "She was as stubborn as you, as I recall."

But like Sif, Hela quickly realized that he had much to give, and carefully, she listened.


	13. deem you a reflection, fully smoothed

**Author's Note: **And here comes the kid!fic. I could not resist . . . :p

* * *

><p><strong>Week XIII<strong>: _deem you a reflection, fully smoothed_

* * *

><p><strong>LXI. Toys<strong>

Upon the air, Loki felt the shimmer of magic, untrained and clumsy against his senses. Following the flare of energy, he found Hela in his study, one of his shapeshifting Grimoire's out and open before her (and he made a mental note to strengthen his wards around such tomes for the future) as her form flickered in and out of that of a serpent. Her scaled face flushed at his appearance, caught.

"Hela," Loki tried very hard to sound cross (and not delighted over the amount of power she was able to channel), "Magic of this sort is not a toy."

* * *

><p><strong>LXII. Bugs<strong>

"Móði and Magni placed spiders in Thrúda's bed," Hela explained to her father, a determined scowl on her face that was all a reflection of Sif. "I am going to make sure they regret it." The twin Thorson's fear of snakes was well known – and downright baffling to their father, at that.

Loki shook his head, amused but trying not to let it show. "And yet I will not have you shapeshifting unaided." Her face fell. He hesitated. "However, I will assist you - if you already have your mind set."

Hela returned his smirk – a mirror. "No telling Mother?"

"Most certainly not."

* * *

><p><strong>LXIII. Monsters<strong>

Prophesy flared, and the Norns foretold _death_. . . and his daughter's command and sovereignty over it. Someday, Hela would hold Niflheimr as her own, and there were many who sought to use the promise of Death for their own purposes.

Those many were fools – taking on Sif's steel, and Loki's ensorcelments in order to claim Hela's powers as their own.

"Such concern over such an unnatural creature – a monster," the Enchantress purred, a polished nail caressing Hela's cheek.

"You cannot imagine the monsters that I have seen," Loki replied, his voice a shade of winter as his eyes bled scarlet.

* * *

><p><strong>LXIV. Heroes<strong>

Years pass, and soon, their children are the next generation of Avengers. After a season of serving under Alviss Coulson – Nick Fury's successor – Thrúda announced her engagement to the mortal man.

Already, Ullr was plotting with Móði and Magni on how best to eviscerate Alviss on behalf of their sister – whom they called _the dwarf_.

Hela merely sighed from Thrúda's side, exasperated with her kin. "If your fiancee's soul makes its way to my gates, I shall return him for you at the cost of the Blunder's Two – I'd take Ullr's soul as well, but the Valkyrie refuse to serve him."

* * *

><p><strong>LXV. Rats<strong>

Thrúda smiled watery, "Its not my brothers – or yours - that worry me," and with that she looked past their plotting siblings, to where her father and uncle had poor Alviss back against the wall, with stern words on their lips, and the very present threat of violence in their eyes – a promise, meant to be feared. If having the God of Thunder as a father-in-law wasn't enough, Alviss had the added bonus of having the Trickster as extended family – and he looked positively petrified at the possibility.

"All males are rats," Hela finally concluded, rolling her eyes. "All of them."

* * *

><p><strong>Mythological Mauling Madness: <strong>Because I did not make one of those names up.

_Thor's kids:_

Móði and Magni were the two sons that Thor fathered with Járnsaxa, his Jötunn consort. They represented anger, and strength respectively. Along with their sister, Thrúda (whose mother was Sif, but we are not going there in these drabbles.), who represented courage, together all three personified different aspects of Thor's character.

In the myths, Thrúda did fall in love with the dwarf Alviss, and accepted his proposal of marriage. Thor, who did not approve of the match because of Alviss' small stature, made the dwarf prove his wisdom through intellectual trials. When doing so, the dwarf stayed in Thor's dwelling past when the sun rose, and he perished while proving his love. Thrúda remained unmarried, and mourned him the rest of her life. Now, for many reasons that myth never sat well with me (seriously, Thor, your lady friend was a _giant_. This is sooooo the pot calling the kettle black. ), and so it was fun to have Coulson's son (Because Agent Coulson is made of total and complete win, thankyouverymuch) the one earning Thrúda's hand in the end.

_Loki's Kids:_

Well, we already know about Hel, whose character I am starting to adore writing.

And then we have Ullr. In mythology, Ullr was the God of Winter. He was also called the Shield-God, and the God of the Hunt. In the Prose Edda, he is mentioned to be Sif's son, by a Jötunn she would not name, and really, who else could that be but Loki? Especially seeing as how their affair was already mentioned at various other places in the myths. Lets just put two and two together, now, shall we?

And then, there are about a dozen or so other characters in the family tree, but that would get a little crowded here.

And now that my notes are now longer than my drabbles, I shall gracefully bow out of my ranting. Thank-you for reading.


	14. and you were a leaf that trembled

**Author's Notes: **I have the rest of these written, so updates shall come pretty quickly from now on. :D And that said - here we are with more kid!fic, because I could not resist. And really, the characters deserve this after everything they are put through. ;)

(And the chapter title is once again a Pablo Neruda nick. Ye gods, I love that man's prose.)

* * *

><p><strong>Week XIV<strong>: _and you were a little leaf, that trembled on my chest_

* * *

><p><strong>LXVI<strong>**. One**

Frigg had marveled that her newborn son could so fit in the crook of her arm. The child was so small, so small where in her visions she saw a man – bearing the height and breadth of the storms in all their glory. Already he was his parent's mirror, though; her little prince, all harvest gold and sun blessed.

But Thor was one . . . her visions had seen herself mother of two.

It was silly to mourn what was false – a weaving that had not come to be, but as she held her only son, a small part of her wished for more.

* * *

><p><strong>LXVII<strong>**. Hands**

Odin had not known that a child of the Jötnar could be so small.

But the babe was. In the shadows of the temple, the infant hardly filled the crook of his arm. But his scream was mighty, and the strength of that small hand over his own was strong – mighty and tenacious. And then Odin thought of that smart gaze, the child's strong grip . . . thought of this child leading his people against the Aesir in times to come. And a part of Odin recoiled.

When he uttered his spells, and held the child as his own, he never looked back.

* * *

><p><strong>LXVIII<strong>**. Planet**

"And how do my sons fare this eve?"

Jane Foster, eight months pregnant (although she was sure she was carrying a _planet_ rather than two demi-gods - _two_, Loki had ruined the news for them the week prior), braced a hand at her back, and looked fondly at her husband. "Active," she answered. "They won't hold still."

Almost giddy, Thor knelt down next to her, his hands braced against her to feel his sons.

"Oh," Jane breathed as one kicked, "that was a strong one."

"Mighty indeed," Thor breathed, laying his massive head against her stomach, his breath tickling her skin.

* * *

><p><strong>LXIX<strong>**. Filial**

"Do try to stop pacing, brother – you wear the floor thin."

Thor paused from his circle to look at his brother – easily reclining on one of the benches outside of Eir's hall. Beyond them, screams echoed, setting Thor's skin to crawl. Both men had been kicked from the birthing room by Eir – who said she did not need Thor's anxiety, or Sif's threats to Loki to hamper her work.

"It's your wife," Thor saw fit to point out. "I do not see how you can be so calm."

"A true mystery indeed," Loki gave wryly. But at his knee, his fingers tapped restlessly.

* * *

><p><strong>LXX<strong>**. Terrorist**

That night, giving the new parents a much needed break, Darcy took it upon herself to take the newest addition to their rather large family. In her mind, she was going to be the best Aunt _ever_, and it was time to start early.

Strangely, Hela's eyes were already very green – and she would swear that the girl was plotting behind them. Darcy grinned a crooked grin, and held the baby close enough to whisper in her ear. "You are going to be a right little hellspawn, mark my words."

It would serve her father right, if Darcy had her way, after all.


	15. your shadow left a hole in its wake

**Week XV**: _your shadow left a hole in its wake_

* * *

><p><strong>LXXI. Avarice<strong>

One trip to SHIELD headquarters, almost a year after the bridge's destruction, Darcy finally dragged Jane away from her work for a day of tourism. The Metropolitan Museum of Art was massive, and Darcy was sure that even Jane could lose herself inside the endless halls.

. . . that was until they found a Norse tapestry, ancient and boasting upon the gallery wall. Jane ignored the guards, and pressed her hand against the figure wielding the hammer in the weave, her eyes hungry - shadowed with a greed Darcy could not explain.

Jane's fingers curled, a caress; and then they turned away.

* * *

><p><strong>LXXII. Envy<strong>

Too often was the Queen's Hall silent, with her first son pensive at the ruined bridge and her second lost from Asgard. Frigg's fingers trembled as she worked her loom, spinning a wistful vision – her sons, older and wiser, laughing together as Thor took the crown. There was such a comradeship there, such a weightlessness . . . This was no longer their future.

When she could take no more, Frigg tore at the false prophesy, her fingers curled like talons as she rendered the cloth asunder.

Spent completely, Frigg stared down at the torn threads of her vision, and envied the tale everything.

* * *

><p><strong>LXXIII. Gluttony<strong>

"This tastes as ash in my mouth."

The day after Thor decided to stay on Midgard, and protect her people, his Lady and the Three took to breakfast alone. All were weary from the epic battle that had formed the Avengers, scratched and scabbed as they were from the Trickster and the forces of Hydra, both.

Fandral stared down mournfully at his food, too out of sorts for its taste. Across the table, Volstagg raised a hopeful brow.

Fandral gasped incredulously at the giant's appetite, aghast. From his side Sif pushed her plate towards Volstagg, her mouth a thin, straight line.

* * *

><p><strong>LXXIV. Lust<strong>

Loki's rooms still stood the same, even now.

Sometimes, when her nights turned, she would come and sit upon the dusty silk of his sheets, letting her longing rise up to strangle her. Her throat turned tight, as if clenched by an enemy fist. Her eyes burned. Her fingers clenched in the fabric, imagining his shadow looming over her once more, playful eyes promising.

"My lady?" soft with surprise was Thor's voice from the door.

Sif collected herself; steeled her expression, hardened her heart. "Your snake of a brother had my knives. I was merely collecting them." With her excuse, she slipped away.

* * *

><p><strong>LXXV. Pride<strong>

After the destruction of the bridge, she had but one question for her husband and king: "Are you proud of the path that has been walked?"

Odin squared his shoulders, and stared out at the edge of the heavens. Before her, he was a reflection of the cosmos. "I am at peace with the path I have set."

Her visions stirred – of Thor wise, and Thor fit to rule; leading Asgard to the Twilight with an empty shadow. "Odin . . ." she started.

"I regret nothing," he halted her, his voice steel.

Her fists curled. Clenched. Then released.

Frigg made her words a stone. "Then so be it."


	16. the mighty of earth

**Author's Note**: I know, I know, long time no see with these. Lets fix that now. :p

I guess you could call this the result of watching the Avengers trailer one to many times. (And that said, do you know how much fun it is having Tony Stark take a prat fall? I may have indulged in that here. More than once. Hey - I was not an Iron Man fan until Robert Downy Jr. donned the suit. ;) ) On another note, I think I mixed timelines with **Boom** here - I believe that T'Challa married Storm _after_ his time as an Avenger (my Civil War!verse is fuzzy ), but I was soooooo thinking about the showdown between Ultimates!verse Thor and Storm when I wrote this, and I could not resist.

* * *

><p><strong>Week<strong> **XVI**: "_the mighty of earth"_

* * *

><p><strong>LXXVI. Pow<strong>

Tony Stark's assessment was simple: "I thought that he'd be more ripped."

It didn't matter that Thor was built like a freaking linebacker who had gotten his hands on Banner's serum, but Pepper's eyes had _lingered_on the Thunderer, and incredibly charismatic and stunning man that Tony was, he still had nothing on a God.

Of course, he was pretty sure that Pepper had looked just _because_of his annoyance. "I don't know, Mr. Stark," Pepper smirked thoughtfully. "He looked well from where I was standing."

"Must have been the light," Tony pouted.

"Indeed." Her smirk grew.

Still, all things aside . . . "Pepper, I want his cape."

* * *

><p><strong>LXXVII. Bang<strong>

Clint Barton found that the only thing better than sparring with the Thunderer was when his shield-maiden came to Earth to play. The woman was fierce and resolute, and Clint thrived in finally fighting a person who was far past his equal in the ring.

Tony laughed the first time he saw on of their matches. "Clint, you're letting a girl kick your ass."

In no time, Sif had offered her challenge, and Stark was climbing into the ring sans suit.

"Twenty bucks says she busts his nose," Darcy smirked from the sidelines.

Clint grinned. "Oh, I don't know I'd take that bet."

* * *

><p><strong>LXXVIII. Boom<strong>

T'Challa brought a girl home to meet the team not long after their formation.

Ororo Monroe, one of Xavier's own, was a striking woman with dark skin and hair the color of the clouds. Her eyes, when she took to the sky, were completely white, the pure white of lightning, and Thor grinned when he felt the storms that lingered in her veins, echoing his own – for there's were kindred of spirits.

She raised a delicate hand, and around them, the sky started to rumble.

"Not bad," Thor declared as he raised Mjölnir to answer her challenge. "For a mortal."

* * *

><p><strong>LXXIX. Zap<strong>

"Still you say that magicks are nothing to the might of your science?"

Tony glared at his teammate, fingers twitching as he started to pry the ruined remains of his armor from his body.

"What's a bolt of lightening every once in a while?" Tony scathed as he threw his helmet to the ground. "Although, the information that your little brother was capable of possessing machinery could have been useful _beforehand_." Hence the bolt of lightning Thor had hit him with.

Thor shrugged. "You were insulting the ways of seiðr. Just be glad that you escaped with only a ruined suit."

* * *

><p><strong>LXXX. Pop<strong>

"The man of iron is a dead weight without his armor," Sif declared.

Pepper winced as the shield-maiden sat down between Jane and Darcy. "That bad?"

"He relies on the strength of his suit, and forgets that his body is a weapon," Sif frowned. "He fights as a child amongst men – no technique, only stupid determination and faith in the infallibility of his armor. I merely pointed out his . . . weaknesses."

Natasha grinned wickedly, and summed it up: "She broke his nose during round one."

Darcy smirked. "And I totally have it all on tape," she held up her phone. "Now, hello facebook . . ."


End file.
